Can't Let a Lady Shoot Alone
by aliasfluffyone
Summary: The partners are separated. Joshua Smith runs into a familiar face, a young woman who recognizes him. June 1891, between chapters 6/7 of Smith and Jones.
1. Strange Places, Familiar Faces

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me, nor does Cat Ballou. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Can't Let a Lady Shoot Alone

Chapter 1: Strange Places, Familiar Faces

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Town doesn't quite live up to its name," muttered Heyes.

The slender man nudged his bay forward past the sign _Pleasantville pop. 182_. The sound of hooves on dusty, hard, dry earth was drowned out by the workmen hammering on a scaffold in the center of town. Aside from the new construction, the town was like many others Heyes had passed through over the years. He rode past a white painted church, several houses, and a general store. The former outlaw slowed as Heyes neared the center of town. A stern faced Sheriff frowned at Heyes, but then stepped inside the jailhouse and shut the door behind. The wary man released the breath he'd been holding and continued walking his horse forward. The gelding carried him past the saloon and the hotel. Heyes skirted a painter's ladder in front of the law offices of Hackleby and Hackleby before moving on to the livery.

"You here fer the hangin'?" greeted a round man in a sweat stained shirt. Bright green suspenders held up his striped trousers. "You the first one from outta town to come. Reckon most folks is waiting until tomorrow."

Heyes reached a hand upwards and pushed back the brim of his black hat. The stableman reached to take the reins. Wisps of white hair straggled upwards from behind the older man's ears in an attempt to meet over the bald pate. The bay whickered at the strange touch.

"No, I didn't know there was a hanging planned," replied Heyes.

He leaned forward, crossed his arms over the pommel of the saddle and smiled affably. If Heyes had known there was going to be a hanging, he certainly wouldn't have told his partner to meet him here. But then again, well… Kid couldn't have gotten here first, and he couldn't have gotten in that kind of trouble… and, a thousand worries flashed through his mind in the time it took to answer the stableman. Heyes swallowed. Best get it over with.

"Who are they hanging?" Heyes hoped his voice sounded nonchalant. "What did he do?"

The gap toothed stableman chuckled.

"Not a him, a her."

Heyes smiled in relief. Jailbreak plans receded to the back of his mind as the slender man dismounted. Sharp eyes noted the man on the ladder in front of the law offices. The painter began to brush over the letter A.

"A her?"

"Yep. Pretty little Miss Gigi from over at the saloon, done shot and killed a feller." The stableman rambled on. "Claimed it was self-defense, but nobody believed her."

Heyes placed his hands against his hips and arched backwards, stretching his aching back. The painter proceeded to brush over the letter N.

"Really? Why didn't anyone believe her?" asked Heyes as he straightened up.

"A fancy girl turning down a paying client?" snorted the stableman.

Heyes' brown eyes narrowed at the snide remark. The painter finished brushing over the letter D and climbed down the ladder.

"She said the gun went off by accident when she tried to leave," the stableman continued.

The painter moved the ladder directly beneath the second Hackleby name and started upwards. It didn't take a genius to figure out the dead man's last name. Heyes gestured towards the sign as the painter began to brush over the letter H.

"Who defended the woman?"

"Tweren't nobody for the defense," shrugged the stableman. "Young Hackleby got the jury to convict in less than ten minutes."

"Young Hackleby prosecuted the woman for the murder of the other Hackleby?"

Heyes couldn't keep his voice from rising in incredulity. The stableman nodded.

"Yep, like I said tweren't nobody for the defense."

"Isn't a person supposed to have a lawyer for a fair trial?"

"Not if she kills the only other lawyer in town," snapped the stableman. "We's law abiding folks in Pleasantville, we didn't lynch her. Gave her a trial and she's gonna get a coffin after the hanging. Free of charge."

Heyes' jaw clamped shut. He tried to tell himself that Gigi wasn't his problem. For all he knew, she had murdered the older Attorney Hackleby. All Heyes needed to do was wait here for Kid and then ride out of town. He took a deep breath. The stableman tugged the reins. The gelding pulled back with a sharp whinny, shaking his head, long lengths of mane flying back and forth, frightened eyes wide.

"Settle down there!" demanded the stableman.

Heyes took the reins from the stableman. He stepped in closer and began to murmur soothing sounds to his horse, stroking the bay's muzzle. At the sound of the familiar voice, the frightened animal began to calm down.

"He gets skittish in strange places," dissembled Heyes.

"You should warn a body!" huffed the crotchety stableman.

Heyes raised an eyebrow at the older man's sharp words. He continued to gentle his horse.

"Why don't I settle him into a stall?" suggested Heyes. "That way you don't have to…"

"Even if you brush down your own horse, price is still four bits," interrupted the stableman.

"Of course," smiled Heyes not taking his eyes off the bay. He'd just as soon brush down his own horse and make sure the animal was taken care of properly. "Just tell me which stall to use and where the oats are."

"Oats is extry."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"There now," soothed Heyes. "That ought to do you for the evening."

The bay whickered an agreement as Heyes stepped out of the fourth stall on the left. He brushed his hands against his vest, wiping stray horse hairs from his clothing as he made his way to the front of the stable. A soft thud sounded from the loft. Heyes looked up. An almost familiar face peered down from the loft. Flat on her stomach, hands clutched the edge of the flooring and a rifle barrel extended over the side of the loft.

"Heyes?"

A long blonde braid slipped over the edge and dangled down below the loft floor. The young woman looked to be in her early twenties, if that. Beside her, another head peered over the edge. The curly haired blond youth frowned at Heyes. The young man reached a proprietary hand out to pull the braid back up over the woman's shoulder.

"Bridget and I heard you and Kid were granted a posthumous amnesty a couple of years ago," continued the soft voice. Her chin quivered. "We thought you and Kid were both dead."

"Beth? Beth Jordan?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	2. Of Schemes Dreams and Hair Brained Plans

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me, nor does Cat Ballou. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Can't Let a Lady Shoot Alone

Chapter 2: Of Schemes, Dreams and Hair Brained Plans

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"If you're here, does that mean Thaddeus is alright too?"

The hopeful tone in Beth's voice was unmistakable. Heyes' brown eyes blinked in shock. His uncharacteristic outburst at seeing Beth Jordan after all these years had let him blurt out her name in response to her soft whisper, but that had been a mistake. While Heyes trusted the Jordans to keep the secret of the partner's aliases, he didn't know anything about the young man glowering at him from Beth's side. Letting a stranger find out about their lives in Thunder Ridge was out of the question. Heyes steeled himself to protect his partner.

"There was a reason the amnesty was posthumous," dissembled Heyes. He shrugged. "Guess the governor didn't think I was all that worrisome on my own."

The tentative smile on Beth's face disappeared. She pushed herself up out of the shadows, tugging her blue gingham skirt straight as she moved. The graceful young woman paused for a moment on her knees and wiped a hand across her eyes. Heyes wanted to start ranting about the schemes of sneaky governors and tell Beth how a long string of politicians destroyed the partner's dream of amnesty. The sensitive man wanted to reassure the Beth that Kid was fine, but another glance at the now smiling blond man beside her put a stop to that idea.

"Beth, who's your friend?" Heyes flashed a tight smile at the pair peering down at him and added in a light, teasing tone, "What would Jesse say if he knew you were up in a hayloft with this young fella?"

The question flustered the pair as Heyes had intended. Beth's face reddened. The pretty young woman scrambled up from her knees leaving her rifle on the floor. She stood at the edge of loft, her back ramrod straight, her ample bosom heaving with indignation.

"This is not what you think…" began Beth.

The young man's rifle butt thumped on the hard wooden loft floor, the barrel clanked against Beth's rifle. The young man swiftly pushed himself off the floor and reached his arms across Beth's shoulders to hug her tight. Even from this distance, Heyes could see the eyes harden as the blond turned his gaze on Heyes.

"I don't like what you're insinuating about my fiancée," hissed the youth in a low voice. "You ain't got no call to speak ill of Beth."

"Fiancée?"

Heyes' voice ratcheted upwards in surprise. The former outlaw searched his memory. It was more than ten years since that day Belle Jordan unknowingly rescued the two most successful outlaws in the west from a determined posse. For a few idyllic days, Kid and Heyes had been two ordinary ranch hands. Thaddeus Jones and Joshua Smith mended fences, ate meals with the family and pretended not to notice Belle's daughters, Bridget and Beth, following them every chance they could. Heyes still thought of Beth as a mischievous tomboy. Surely Beth wasn't old enough to get married?

"And although I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Mr. and Mrs. Jordan," continued the youth, "I'd like to think Beth's father would approve…"

"Papa will approve of you Travis," interrupted Beth as she found her voice again. She leaned into his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. A trembling smile lit up her face. "And so will Mama."

Heyes swallowed at Beth's words. Why hadn't Jesse and Belle met Travis yet? When the posse had located Kid and Heyes, he'd had a hard time to talk Belle and Jesse into turning them in. The Jordan's were good people and didn't want to profit at the partner's expense. His thoughts returned to Buckton. It was only because the girls surprised the posse escorting them all to town that the partners were able to escape. Several months later, Kid and Heyes returned to make sure the family was alright. The partners found Belle and the girls headed for a trial, charged with aiding and abetting wanted fugitives. The law thought Belle was in on the escape plan, and only Kid or Heyes could testify in her support. In the guise of an inebriated version of his Norton P. Terwilliger persona, Heyes got himself locked up so he could break Kid out of jail if his partner had to reveal himself during the trial. In all the years since, Heyes pictured the family living happily in Denver.

"Did the law find out about the money we left?" blurted out Heyes.

The dark haired man had counted leaving the Jordan family enough money to move as one of his good deeds, but would the law think of it as a pay-off of some sort?

"What happened to Jesse? And Belle?" continued Heyes in concern. His anxious voice rose. "Did the law put Belle in jail again after I broke Kid out?"

"Sssh!" The pair above him spoke in unison. "We don't want anyone knowing we're up here!"

"You're hiding out?" incredulity tinged Heyes question. A memory teased. "What's wrong with under the porch?"

Travis glanced down at the rifles beside their feet, then turned his head to face the light streaming in through loft door. From the direction, Heyes knew it had to overlook Pleasantville's main road.

"This is the best place to see…"

"Be quiet!" hissed Beth.

Heyes peeked out the partially open stable door. The rotund stableman slumped in a chair. Snores sounded. Sun reddened the circular patch of bare skin on the top of the man's head. The nearest person on Pleasantville's main street was the sign painter, now brushing out the letter B. A couple stood in front of the hotel and the sheriff was now seated in a straight back chair outside the jailhouse. Workmen continued to pound nails on the scaffold. On the other side of town he could see people going about their business. Nobody was paying any attention to the people inside the livery.

"The stableman's asleep, and there is no one else anywhere near enough to hear," replied Heyes looking up again. "Now are you gonna tell me what happened to your parents? And where's Bridget? Is she up there too?"

"Climb on up and I'll tell you our plan," beckoned Beth.

"Plan? What plan?" grumbled Heyes as he started up the ladder. "It better not be a hair brained plan like the last one you and your sister pulled!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	3. A Hannibal Heyes Plan?

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me, nor does Cat Ballou. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Can't Let a Lady Shoot Alone

Chapter 3: A Hannibal Heyes Plan?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes reached the top rung of the ladder, huffing a little at the unaccustomed exertion. Dark eyes assessed the shadowed loft. Travis had picked up the rifles and leaned them against the wall near the loft doors. Beth was pacing. Her long blue skirts swished as the young woman reached the far end of the stable and turned to stalk back towards him. Bridget was nowhere to be seen. Heyes pulled himself up to stand on the floor of the loft.

"Beth, where are your parents?" demanded Heyes.

"California," replied Beth as she strode across the loft floor. "Mama said Papa couldn't take another Colorado winter. They moved to Los Angeles last fall."

"And they left you girls alone?" squawked Heyes indignantly.

"We're not little girls anymore," retorted Beth. "We're grown women, capable of taking care of ourselves…"

"Hiding out in a loft," interrupted Heyes.

Beth stopped right in front of him. She was tall for a woman and slender like her mother, but worry shone from her wide blue eyes. Heyes softened his tone.

"What kind of trouble are you in now?"

"It's not me," clarified Beth. Her chin trembled. "It's Bridget."

"Bridget?" Heyes echoed. "What kinda trouble?"

Beth's delicate fingers gestured towards the loft doors. Through the crack between the loft doors Heyes had a clear view of the rising scaffold.

"The hanging kind."

"Wh… what? Heyes' eyes blinked in shock. "They don't hang little girls."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes' mind whirled. The sad news that an extended illness had forced Jesse from his teaching position and wiped out the family's savings was hard to take, but at least Belle and Jesse were alive, not in jail as Heyes had initially feared. And from what Beth said, her father was improving in the warm southern California climate.

"So let me get this straight, Belle and Jesse moved to California last October," recapped Heyes. "And left you girls to continue working while the law offices of Croft and Cole handled the sale of the house?"

"Yes," sniffled Beth. She sat on a pile of hay, Travis beside her. "I was already under contract to teach another school year and Bridget was working at McKenna and Kerndt's grocery store, so the plan was to sell the house, stay in Denver until the end of the school year, then Bridget and I would join our parents."

Travis reached out to pick up her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. The curvaceous blonde huffed an exhalation that fluttered the bangs on her forehead.

"When the house was contracted for sale, Bridget and I moved into Mrs. Jones' boarding house," added Beth.

"My lucky day," smiled Travis. "That's when we met. Ma seated Beth beside me for meals."

Heyes arched an eyebrow upwards.

"Your last name is Jones?"

"There's a lot of folks named Jones in the world!" huffed Travis.

"And Smith too," reminded Beth with shaky smile at Heyes. "You should know."

Heyes rolled his eyes. The slender man started pacing as he thought about what Beth had told him.

"After you moved into the boarding house, a fire destroyed your home before the sale was complete." Heyes' lips tightened into a hard frown. "And Attorney's Croft and Cole went out of business before the insurance claim was finalized."

"That's right," agreed Beth's soft voice. "The insurance company said they paid the law firm, but the money was never transferred to Mama and Papa."

Delicate fingers plucked a long straw from the pile of hay. Beth began to fiddle with it, twisting it and tying it in knots as she spoke.

"There were lots of fires in Denver last winter," volunteered Travis. "I worked with the fire brigade and I heard the chief say a lot of the fires in vacant buildings looked like arson."

Heyes sucked in a deep breath at that news. Beth turned to look at Travis in surprise, dropping the twisted piece of hay from her hands. The master planner leaned back against the wall, thinking.

"How many insurance claims do you suppose were handled by Croft and Cole?" Heyes wondered.

Travis shrugged, but Beth jumped up. She shook her hands to emphasize her words.

"That's exactly what Bridget asked!" exclaimed Beth. "She was sure Croft and Cole stole the money, but we couldn't prove it."

Heyes ran a hand through his hair in frustration. A fire conveniently gutted the law offices of Croft and Cole days later, and the attorneys disappeared.

"That's why Bridget quit her job at the grocers to join Baxter's travelling song and dance troupe," explained Beth. "She was sure Croft and Cole wouldn't have gone too far. The dancing job moves around so much she could tour the state to look for them."

"I can't believe your parents agreed to that," replied Heyes.

"We didn't tell them. We didn't tell them the money was missing either," Beth's face reddened at Heyes look. "Bridget was safe. Mrs. Baxter watches out for the members of her troupe."

"Not well enough apparently!" frowned Heyes.

Gigi was the name Bridget used on stage. The idea that Bridget was the pretty little Miss Gigi due to hang tomorrow was mind boggling.

"Bridget telegraphed me after the first show in Pleasantville," added Beth. "She was excited, said she'd found them and she would be coming back to Denver on the Monday morning stage. When she didn't arrive…"

Beth's shoulders slumped. Travis stood up beside her.

"Beth didn't want to wait for the next stage," continued Travis. He gestured towards the sturdy wagon sheltered in the barn below. "I couldn't let her travel alone. We left in the wagon before first light, got to town early this afternoon."

Heyes nodded. The four horses grazing in the corral were a matched team, strong and sturdy enough to pull a heavy fire wagon. Pulling a light weight farm wagon would have made for a quick journey.

"We found out from Mrs. Baxter that Bridget was in jail," murmured Beth. She leaned against Travis. "I went to the jail and asked the sheriff to see her, but he said she wasn't allowed visitors!"

Heyes eyebrows went up.

"Why?"

"I don't know, attorney's orders was all the sheriff said," Beth's chin trembled.

Heyes rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He pushed off the wall and walked over to stand beside Beth and Travis.

"Have you seen the remaining Attorney Hackleby?" prodded Heyes. "Is he either attorney Croft or Cole?"

Heyes didn't think Bridget would kill a man for cheating her parents out of their life savings, but it was too much of a coincidence for Croft and Cole to be missing and one of the two attorneys in Pleasantville to be the purported murder victim.

"I have no idea," answered Beth. "Bridget worked with the attorneys, I've never seen Croft or Cole."

Heyes' poker face served him well. He didn't let his anxiousness show. If the surviving Hackleby was one of the crooked attorneys, hanging Bridget would get rid of a witness.

"That's when you and Travis climbed up here?"

Beth nodded. Heyes clenched his teeth in a tight grimace that might be mistaken for a smile. He hated to ask the next question.

"What was your plan, when you came up here in the loft with the rifles?" asked Heyes.

Two voices answered.

"I'm not gonna let anyone hang my sister!"

"I couldn't let Beth do all the shooting by herself!"

Heyes closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"And how is shooting going to get Bridget out of Pleasantville?" prodded Heyes.

"Simple. We'll shoot up the scaffold and Bridget can get away," answered Beth in a matter of fact tone. "It will work just like when Bridget and I shot up the wagon taking you and Kid to Buckton."

Heyes sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Yes, that was a Jordan plan, taken right from the pages of the plan she and Bridget had made ten years ago. Shoot first and think later. By some miracle, ten years ago that dangerous plan had managed to work out without anyone getting wounded or killed, but Pleasantville wasn't a desolate mountain road. Pleasantville was a town, and tomorrow the streets would be crowded with folks coming to see a hanging.

"That isn't exactly the best plan I've…" began Heyes.

"Beth, I've been trying to tell you…," began Travis at the same time.

Beth's chin jutted out stubbornly. Heyes glanced from her to Travis. The resigned expression on Travis' face told Heyes the young man was going to do whatever it took to help Beth, even if it meant going to jail.

"Did you tell Travis that you and Bridget got caught?" reminded Heyes.

Beth blinked. She obviously hadn't thought that far ahead. Her panic at Bridget's impending fate had clouded her mind.

"If your plan works and all of you get away, you, Travis and Bridget will be fugitives for the rest of your lives. You'll never see your parents again," stated Heyes. "If your plan doesn't work, the law will put you and Travis in separate prisons, and they'll probably catch Bridget and hang her anyway."

"No!" wailed Beth.

Travis wrapped his arms around Beth. Her blue eyes filled with tears.

"Don't worry," soothed Heyes. "We're gonna make a better plan."

"A Hannibal Heyes plan?" hiccuped Beth's voice in a hopeful tone.

Heyes gave her a rueful smile. Hannibal Heyes plans were famous for their daring, ingenuity, and out and out audacity. The former outlaw remembered Lom telling him once _Hannibal Heyes plans got you boys a lot of money, but it was Kid's getaway plans that made it so you could spend the money_. One thing both Kid and Heyes insisted upon was information. A plan to save Bridget wasn't like a robbery plan, more like a getaway plan, but Heyes was going to make sure his partner stayed out of this mess.

"You've been reading too many dime novels," smiled Heyes. "All I meant is a plan that doesn't involve shooting up the town."

"What's your plan?"

"What do you want us to do?"

"The two of you go back down that ladder," ordered Heyes. "Go to the hotel restaurant and ask for the sheriff to come see you there. Demand a delay in the hanging. Demand a new trial. Demand visiting hours with Bridget. Be loud. Make yourself visible. We want everyone in town to know where you are."

"How will that help?"

"You're the distraction," grinned Heyes. "Everybody will be so busy watching you they won't notice me at all."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes watched as Travis solicitously helped Beth down the last few rungs of the ladder. The pair walked out into the sunshine and headed to the hotel. Beyond the hotel, the gallows loomed ever higher. Heyes shook his head as he started down the ladder. The first thing he was going to do was send a telegraph to his partner and stop him from coming to Pleasantville. Kid didn't need to be involved. The second thing he was going to do was have a little chat with Bridget.

"And if worst comes to worst," muttered Heyes to himself, "I still know a thing or two about jailbreaks."

Heyes wasn't going to let anyone hang Bridget Jordan, not even if she was guilty.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	4. Trouble

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me, nor does Cat Ballou. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Can't Let a Lady Shoot Alone

Chapter 4: Trouble

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes left the sleeping stableman behind as the former outlaw sauntered down the street looking as if he hadn't a care in the world. A dimpled smile lit up his face when he reached the hotel. Beth's strident voice demanding the sheriff could be heard quite clearly. Behind him, pounding horse hooves, a cracking whip, and the driver's call to whoa announced the arrival of the afternoon stage. Heyes glanced briefly at the coach as it turned the corner between the livery stable and the Hackleby law offices. The dark haired man shook his head at the freshly painted sign, then resumed his path to the telegraph office door. The bespectacled telegraph operator looked up from his desk as the bell above the door jangled.

"May I help you?"

"Yeah, I need to send a telegram."

The clerk pushed a pad of paper and an ink pen towards Heyes. Taking care to make neat legible block letters, Heyes filled out the form, keeping his words to a minimum.

 _To: Thaddeus Jones, care of Miss Clementine Hale, Denver. Urgent meet Fort Collins._

Heyes reread the terse line and pursed his lips. The message sounded worrisome. Kid, his wife and two year old daughter were visiting their long-time friend Clem at her home outside of Denver. Heyes had been in Texas to see the MacCreedy's. The partner's original plan was to meet in Pleasantville before travelling north to Thunder Ridge together. Heyes wanted to keep Kid out of Pleasantville, but if Kid thought Heyes was in trouble, his partner would surely come to his aid. Heyes crossed out the word _urgent_ and added _Can't wait to see Eliza's face when she opens her birthday present. Joshua._ Heyes figured the cost of a few extra words was worth the expense to change the tone of the message.

"That will be one dollar and sixty cents," informed the clerk.

Heyes stepped out into the warm afternoon sunlight. Pulling the door shut behind him, he noted the telegraph office closed at six. Although he doubted he would get an answering message back tonight, the meticulous planner decided he would stop by again before closing. The sheriff hurried across the street to the hotel, sunlight flashed on the keys dangling from the lawman's waist. A satisfied smile spread across Heyes' face. Now it was time to go see Bridget.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

After checking out the surroundings, Heyes found there was no deputy on guard at the tiny jail. Rather than take the chance of being caught whispering with Bridget through the alley way window, the bold man took a daring gamble. Heyes walked straight inside the jailhouse.

"Sherriff?" called Heyes as if he were looking for the lawman.

At his words, the pretty blonde woman seated inside the cell turned. Bridget gasped, her blue eyes widened in surprise. Her mouth trembled for a moment as the older Jordan girl rose slowly to a stand. Then her lips curled up into a wry smile.

"I knew those stories about a posthumous pardon were wrong!"

"Hello Bridget."

Heyes stepped through the doorway. His bright smile flashed in response to her obvious delight. Bridget stepped to the bars and grasped the bars iron with her clenched hands.

"Hey…"

The strategist shook his head back and forth, his index finger held as a caution against his lips. Bridget gulped.

"My name is Joshua Smith," reminded Heyes in a conversational tone of voice. He gave a telling nod towards the empty sheriff's chair. The smooth con man established a reason for being in the jail if anyone should walk in on them. "I'm looking for the sheriff. Have you seen him?"

Bridget had been a bright teenager ten years ago. Grown now, with her hair pinned atop her head, she was still quick on the uptake. The graceful blonde released the bars and brushed a hand over the front of her pink and white flowered skirt. She backed up a step.

"Hello Mr. Smith, for a moment I thought you were an old family friend," responded Bridget. "You must have mistaken me for someone else. My name is not Bridget, it's Gigi."

Heyes appreciated her denying any knowledge of Joshua Smith, it made his role in this jailhouse just a little bit safer. But the news that she wasn't using her real name surprised him. He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"You're still calling yourself Gigi?" hissed Heyes in a low whisper.

"Well I'm not gonna tell anyone my real name now, not with the mess I'm in," huffed Bridget in an equally low voice. A tentative smile started across her face, "Is your partner here with you too?"

"I'm travelling alone," hedged Heyes.

Bridget's eyes closed. It was a moment before she spoke again.

"How did you find me anyway?" whispered Bridget.

"I didn't," answered Heyes. "Beth told me you were here."

The color drained from Bridget's face. Heyes realized she hadn't known her sister and Travis tried to see her earlier. Why was the sheriff keeping her incommunicado? Remembering the stableman had referred to her as _pretty little Miss Gigi_ , Heyes wondered if anyone aside from himself, Beth and Travis, knew Bridget's real name.

"Beth shouldn't be here!" Bridget's frantic whisper insisted. "You've gotta get her outta town before Cole sees her!"

Heyes lips curled up in a tight smile. He'd been right. At least one of the missing Denver attorneys was here in Pleasantville.

"That must mean the cheating scoundrel Croft from Denver is the dead attorney. Right?

Bridget's blue eyes widened in surprise. She nodded.

"Did you kill him?"

"No, Cole killed him," breathed Bridget.

"And you let him railroad you into a murder conviction?" spluttered Heyes. "Why? Why didn't you say anything?"

Bridget's nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply.

"Because Lucius Cole told me he'd kill my sister if I told anyone!"

Heyes jaw gaped open in surprise. Outside the jail, footsteps sounded on the boardwalk. Bridget stepped another foot away from the bars.

"You can wait here for the sheriff, if you want," declared Bridget in a normal tone of voice that carried across the room. "But I have nothing to say to you!"

The door swung open. Bridget's face paled even more. Heyes knew before he turned around that it wasn't the sheriff. Graying hair and a pencil thin moustache of the same color made Heyes wonder how old Croft had been if Cole was referred to as young Hackleby. The man in a double breasted black suit stood in the doorframe and flashed a mocking smile.

"Now what do we have here?" asked the murderer. "The prisoner is not allowed visitors."

Heyes tilted his head to one side and gave a toothy lopsided grin. The consummate chameleon wished he had one of Kyle's nauseating plugs of chewing tobacco, both for the authenticity the chaw would provide to the role he was donning and for the opportunity to spit.

"You ain't the sheriff," guffawed Heyes.

"No, I'm not," agreed Hackleby. The man's words seemed to indicate he had heard Bridget. Now a contemptuous sneer spread across his face. "I'm looking for him too."

The dark haired man staggered forward, pretending to be drunk. Heyes placed his hands against the man's chest as if holding on for support. Hackleby, or Lucius Cole, whoever he really was, appeared to be appalled at the contact. With much fumbling, the murderer attempted to free himself from Heyes' grasp.

"I ain't never seen a real live murderer before," confided Heyes. He leered back over his shoulder at Bridget. "She's too purty to be a murderer, don't you think?"

"Unhand me!"

Dancing around the man, Heyes allowed himself to be pushed outside of the jail. He surreptitiously pocketed the keys he had palmed from Hackleby's pocket. Through the open door, he could see Bridget, behind bars, make a shooing motion and mouth the word _Go!_

"You ain't seen the last of me!" Heyes shouted in a belligerent tone, a promise more for Bridget's benefit than a threat to Hackleby.

"Ahh, go on," snapped Hackleby with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Get out of here and don't come back!"

Heyes tottered away, staggering in a circuitous path towards the hotel. A glance over his shoulder showed a disgruntled Hackleby settling himself into the chair outside the jailhouse door. Heyes picked up the pace, he had to get to the hotel quick. Hopefully he would make it to the restaurant before Beth said something that would put her in danger too. He wondered, had Beth asked for her sister by the stage name Gigi? Or Bridget Jordan? Beth's life and Heyes' scheme might depend on who knew the Jordan name.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

At the hotel, Heyes risked another look over his shoulder. Hackleby, having picked up a newspaper, no longer watched him. Heyes bounded up the steps from the dusty street to the first plank of the boardwalk. The wide double doors to the hotel swung open before him. A familiar figure, tall, long legs clad in denim, his broad shoulders covered with a stained sheepskin jacket, showing a worried frown on his face, stepped through the opening onto the boardwalk and collided with Heyes. Brown eyes widened in shock at the sight of his partner. Heyes did the only thing he could. He grabbed the lapels of Kid's jacket and spun his partner back into the hotel alcove pinning Kid against the wall.

"Oomph!"

The unexpected maneuver caused Kid to exhale abruptly. Heyes glanced around the lobby. A few people were standing by the arched opening to the restaurant. Multiple voices raised in the sound of an argument could be heard. The desk clerk, while remaining at his post, was obviously leaning in the direction of the voices, trying to hear what was being said. Nobody was paying any attention to Heyes and Kid standing in the entryway.

"You're not supposed to be here until Friday!" hissed Heyes. "What are you doing here early? Are Matt and Eliza with you?"

"Matt and Eliza are still in Denver, visiting with Clem. I'm here because there is only so much dress shopping a man can take," groused Kid in a low voice.

A brief smirk flitted across Heyes face and disappeared just as quickly. Kid's blue eyes narrowed.

"Joshua, I arrived on the stage a little while ago and came over here to meet you. When I found you hadn't checked in to the hotel yet, I began to worry," continued Kid. "I'm mighty glad to see you're not in jail."

Kid started to push Heyes off, but the slender dark haired man shoved into the muscular blond keeping Kid pinned against the wall.

"What did you do that for?" Kid's voice rose.

"Keep your voice down," warned Heyes.

The glare in Kid's blue eyes changed to concern.

"Why are we whispering?" demanded Kid. "What kind of trouble are you in?"

"Not me," assured Heyes. The dark haired man looked towards the restaurant. "The Jordan girls."

"Bridget and Beth," Kid's face lit up with a smile of recognition. "What kinda trouble did those little girls get into now?"

"They're not little girls anymore," reminded Heyes. "Bridget's in jail, and if I don't stop Beth it's gonna get worse."

"Worse than jail?" Kid's voice sounded incredulous. "Let's get them girls outta here."

The muscular blond pushed back against Heyes hold. The dark haired head shook back and forth.

"No," hissed Heyes. "I don't want you getting in trouble. You can't be involved."

The blue eyes facing Heyes went hard and cold.

"Thaddeus, you've got to go before the girls see you. They think Kid Curry is dead, let 'em keep thinkin' that," pleaded Heyes. His words faded to a frantic whisper, Heyes had to convince Kid to leave. "You've got a wife and child..."

"Don't you go trying that again," interrupted Kid with a hard frown.

"What?" replied Heyes.

"Using Matt and Eliza to try and get me to leave! It don't work and you know it. You're family too," huffed Kid. "If you're in trouble, we're both in trouble."

From the restaurant, Beth's voice could be heard, _"I demand to see my sister now! I can't believe she didn't say a word in her own defense! Bridget's not a murderer!"_

"Now we're really in trouble," groaned Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	5. Partners Planning

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me, nor does Cat Ballou. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Can't Let a Lady Shoot Alone

Chapter 5: Partners Planning

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Beth is here?" Kid glared at Heyes. "You didn't tell me that!"

"No! You can't…"

Kid moved. The muscular blond's lightening reflexes left Heyes's hands grasping thin air. Heyes was also left with the certainty that his partner had only been pretending to let Heyes pin him against the wall. The slender man did a quick about face and caught up to Kid before he got halfway across the hotel lobby. The arched opening to the restaurant was blocked by onlookers. Inside the room, a very red faced, indignant Beth faced the sheriff. Travis stood behind her. A skinny, pinched nosed woman with salt and pepper hair stood to one side of Beth.

"Thaddeus, you won't help anyone if you get arrested," muttered Heyes under his breath as they approached the gathered people. "Let me handle this."

"Bridget is in jail for murder," huffed Kid with a sour expression on his face. "Ain't quite sure that's a good way to handle things."

"That happened before I got here!"

Heyes' raised voice caused a couple of the people crowding the restaurant entrance to turn their heads. Kid tugged his brown hat lower on his brow and glanced away, while Heyes flashed a sunny smile at the staring people before craning his neck to look beyond them and see Beth. Most of the people in the lobby followed his lead and turned their heads back to gaze at the spectacle in the dining room. Heyes almost missed Kid's low voiced question.

"When did you get here?"

"A couple hours ago," whispered Heyes.

The pinched nosed woman pointed a long, narrow finger and shook it underneath the sheriff's nose. Surrounded by several other women in brightly colored finery, Heyes could only think she must be Mrs. Baxter. Her shrill voice carried across the room.

"Gigi Clochefill has been working for me for several months. There is no way she would shoot anyone!" railed the woman. With a gesture towards Beth, Mrs. Baxter added, "You ought to let this girl at least see if Gigi is her sister!"

"That ten minute trial wasn't justice!" huffed a woman dressed in a low cut scarlet concoction of sequins and feather.

Angry murmurs and nods of agreement sounded. The entire dance troupe glared at the lawman.

"We demand a real trial!"

Indistinguishable murmurs, possibly agreement or maybe objections, came from some of the townspeople seated at the nearby tables. Heyes nudged Kid.

"Wait here," hissed Heyes.

The dark haired man pushed his way through the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, Heyes saw Kid squeeze between the onlookers, following him into the spacious dining room.

"Couldn't stay put, could ya," murmured Heyes to himself.

The silver tongued charmer reached the sheriff. The stocky lawman tried to pacify the angry women. It had been at least ten minutes since Heyes left Bridget at the jail with Hackleby. The keys dangling from the sheriff's waist ensured that Bridget was safely locked away from the murderer. And Heyes had determined the man didn't have a gun on him when he plucked Hackleby's keys, but he didn't like leaving Bridget on her own too long. Heyes tugged on the lawman's arm. The sheriff glared. For a moment, Heyes thought the beleaguered man might throw a punch at him.

"Sheriff, I couldn't find your deputy."

"Sent him to Brewster," snapped the lawman. "What of it?"

Heyes' eyebrows rose a little bit in surprise. He wondered why the deputy had been sent to the county seat, but he had to get the sheriff moving. Heyes smiled, brown eyes wide and innocent.

"Well, I just thought you might want to know, there is a strange man over at the jail."

The sheriff tensed, suddenly alert. The lawman's head turned to look in the direction of the jail. Beth's eyes met Heyes. His calm gaze promised nothing was irreparably wrong. Her trembling stopped. The tall blonde woman reached out a hand to Travis, together the pair sat down at a nearby table, leaving Mrs. Baxter and her cohort facing the lawman

"Noleen, I ain't got time for arguing now," snapped the sheriff. "I gotta get back to work."

The sheriff abruptly turned and strode for the door. Moving quickly he was almost outside the restaurant when Mrs. Baxter's shrill voice called after him.

"Humphrey, you know it ain't justice for that lawyer fella to act as defense, prosecutor and judge!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes turned back to face Beth and Travis. The mastermind remembered what the stableman had told him about the trial, _Pretty little Miss Gigi… claimed it was self-defense_. Heyes wished he'd had more time to talk with Bridget and learn the details of what really happened, but he knew it would be a good idea to find out what kind of rumors were going around town.

"Beth, what makes you think Bridget didn't say anything at her trial?" prodded Heyes in a low voice.

"Huh?" Beth's blue eyes looked up. Her hands were on the table, fingers interlaced with Travis' hand. "Because that's what Mrs. Baxter told me."

At the sound of her name, the leader of the gang of angry women turned. Mrs. Baxter's hard expression softened at Beth's distraught expression.

"Poor Gigi, was shaking like a leaf," stated the older woman. Her lips curled up in distaste. "Attorney Hackleby did nearly all the talking. The new fella at the stable carried on about how he caught Gigi trying to escape."

"Really?"

Heyes snorted in disbelief. The former outlaw wondered at the stableman's story again. His brown eyes blinked and the smile on his face tightened as the businesswoman continued.

"For a few minutes there, I thought that lawyer was fixing on a lynching," added Mrs. Baxter. The woman gestured to a svelte dancer beside her. "Thank goodness Elspeth got back with Humphrey and he put a stop to that."

"You were at the trial?"

"Phhht, three a.m. in the morning with a bunch of rowdies from the saloon as jury?" snorted Mrs. Baxter. "I ain't calling that a trial."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"We ain't gonna have supper?" Travis' plaintive question almost made him sound like Kid.

"Let's get you settled in a room, where no one can hear us talk," urged Heyes.

The slender man shepherded Beth and Travis towards the door leading back to the hotel lobby. Beth interrupted with a happy squeal. The tall blonde ran towards the familiar figure in the floppy brown hat and water marked sheepskin coat guarding the restaurant's exit. Kid's face lit up in a smile and he held his arms wide.

"That's him ain't it?"

"Huh?" Heyes turned to see Travis' face settled in a glum frown.

"Your partner, _Thaddeus_."

The young man's frown deepened as Travis watched Beth lean into Kid's embrace, she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Posthumous pardon, huh," Travis nodded grudgingly. The frown on his face deepened. "Everybody thinking Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry are dead and no one comes looking for you…, you made a real good plan there."

Heyes didn't bother to correct the young man. It hadn't been a Hannibal Heyes plan. Fed up with multiple governors welching on the original deal, Lom had started the rumors years ago. It had taken time to convince the governor and the folks that posted reward money. All he and Kid had to do was stay out of trouble. What was twisting Travis's face up into such a sour expression?

"Banks and railroads cancelled their rewards," reminded Heyes.

"He's got to be at least thirty now, way too old for her," grumbled Travis.

Oh. In a flash, Heyes realized the significance of Travis' words, his frowns earlier in the loft every time Kid was mentioned, and the source of his discontent. The young man was jealous. Heyes swallowed a smirk. Kid still looked younger than his thirty-seven years. Reminding Travis that the hug was nothing more than a warm greeting from two old friends who hadn't seen each other in ten years wouldn't make matters any better. Besides, there was a larger concern.

"Why didn't I get a hug?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"This way," growled Kid. "You both are staying with us."

Beth and Travis started in surprise at Kid's voice. With a wordless decision earlier, the sturdy fast draw had vanished upstairs to check out the surroundings. Heyes stayed with the pair as they checked in.

"Then why did we rent a room?" Beth looked puzzled.

"Two rooms," grumbled Travis. Mimicking the desk clerk's affronted tone, he added, "This ain't the kinda hotel that allows unmarried folks to share a room."

The young man shot Heyes a glare. Heyes smiled back. He'd mentioned the couple was betrothed in front of the desk clerk. "Uncle Joshua" insisted on paying for his niece's room. An extra two dollars was a good investment as far as Heyes was concerned. Anybody looking for Beth would have two rooms to check, and she wasn't going to be in either one. They followed Kid down the corridor to the room that Thaddeus Jones had already rented upon his arrival in Pleasantville. Kid inserted the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Travis followed Beth inside. Heyes stopped for a minute beside his partner.

"Why did you pick a room at the rear of the hotel?"

"Cause of the view."

Beth turned at the partner's exchange. Her blue skirts swirled and Travis walked right into her. Off balance, the couple clutched at each other. Red faced, the couple stepped apart. Beth smiled over Travis' shoulder at the partners.

"Sunset over the Rocky Mountains look beautiful from the window."

Kid nodded with a grim smile. Blue eyes met brown. Perhaps only Heyes realized Kid picked the room because it didn't face the scaffold in the center of town. Heyes stepped into the room. Kid followed and pushed the door shut behind him. The wild clamoring tension that had filled Heyes' body when Bridget told him of Lucius Cole's threat eased. Beth wasn't safe yet, and neither was Bridget, but at least the plan to get Beth out of sight succeeded.

"Why do you want us to stay in here with you two anyway?" demanded Travis in a surly tone.

"Because Hackleby threatened to kill Beth if Bridget talks," answered Heyes.

Beth drew a sharp breath, but it was Travis who paled at Heyes words.

"So that's why Bridget didn't say anything," whispered Beth in understanding.

"We've gotta get Beth outta town!" blurted out Travis.

"Not without Bridget!" insisted Beth.

"We're gonna stop that hanging tomorrow," soothed Heyes. "But first, to do that, my partner and I have got to do some reconnaissance work."

"What?" Travis looked confused.

"We're gonna look around town," clarified Kid. "I want you to keep Beth safe. You've got guard duty until we get back."

A transformation came over Travis. His shoulders straightened, and he lost the worried look that news of Hackleby's threat had brought on.

"Keeping Beth safe is my privilege," declared Travis. He patted the serviceable handgun holstered on his hip. "If anyone tries to harm her, they'll be sorry. I ain't fast, but I hit what I aim for."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You go talk to the sheriff, he's already seen you," suggested Kid as the partners quietly made their way down the hotel's back stairs. "I'll go around back of the jail and talk to Bridget."

The partner's stepped around the corner of the hotel. In the dusky evening, the relentless hammering had stopped. Shadows of the gallows stretched long down Pleasantville's main road. A lantern hanging by the jail illuminated the lawman and Mrs. Baxter. Heyes glanced the other direction and saw the stableman enter the livery.

"That's a good idea," agreed Heyes with a smile. "But I think the sheriff is already busy. You go ahead and talk to Bridget,

"What are you gonna do," demanded Kid.

"I'm gonna pay a visit on our friend the stableman. Meet me around back of Hackleby's place when you're done."

The partners separated, Kid started towards the jail. Heyes took a step towards the livery, but he couldn't resist. He looked over his shoulder with a smirk.

"And be careful," called Heyes in a low voice. "I don't want to have to break you outta jail too."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was long after midnight when the partners returned to the hotel room. Travis and Beth were sitting at the table in the center of the room playing cards.

"Any trouble while we were gone?" asked Heyes.

"No," Travis shook his head. "You?"

For a minute, Heyes felt like he was thrown back in time to when he and Kid were still outlaws. How many times had he and his partner had a similar conversation? The sense of déjà vu was broken by Kid's words.

"We brought sandwiches," grinned Kid.

Beth gathered up the cards with shaky hands. Kid placed the heavily laden platter in the center of the table.

"Did you speak to Bridget?" whispered Beth. "How is she?"

"Bridget is fine," soothed Kid. "Didn't Mrs. Baxter tell you she's been bringing Bridget food and a change of clothes?"

"Yes, but why can't I see Bridget?"

The gentle man glanced at Heyes. How much to tell Beth? Heyes shrugged. In his own way, Humphrey was trying to do his best by Bridget. The sheriff trusted Noleen Baxter which was why the leader of the dance troupe was able to visit. The lawman didn't allow other visitors because he was still worried about vigilante _justice_.

"Bridget went over to Hackleby's after the last show Saturday night," explained Kid. He picked up a sandwich and handed it to the blonde woman. "Augustus Hackleby, or Crouch, whoever he was, said he would give her the money from your parent's insurance policy."

Beth nodded and took a bite of the sandwich.

"Ain't he the dead guy?" Travis asked as he reached for a sandwich.

"Yeah," nodded Kid. "He wanted to pay Bridget, his partner didn't."

"What do you mean?"

Kid hesitated, not wanting to frighten Beth any worse. Heyes didn't want to tell Beth how close her sister had come to being shot right alongside Augustus Hackleby.

"Hackleby, the one calling himself Lucius Cole in Denver, walked in on them right after Augustus opened the safe," Heyes replied smoothly. "They argued, Cole shot his partner."

"Why didn't he kill Bridget too?" Beth's chin quivered as she spoke.

Heyes glanced at Kid. There was no need to go into the details, the bloody body falling against Bridget, her desperate scramble to get away, the next shots that splintered the door frame as Bridget ran outside and crashed into the stableman. Funny how that annoying man, another almost witness, had inadvertently saved Bridget's life just by being there.

"The stableman heard the shot and came running," interjected Kid. "With a witness, Hackleby couldn't just shoot her. He told everyone his version of what happened in that mockery of a trial, demanding a proper hanging."

"Mrs. Baxter said Hackleby was trying for a lynching," reminded Beth.

"He mighta tried," Heyes gave a hard tightlipped smile. "But Mrs. Baxter sent for the sheriff. The lawman stood up to Hackleby and insisted on a legal hanging."

"A hanging is a hanging!" spluttered Travis.

Beth dropped the sandwich on the table, looking suddenly queasy.

"Not exactly," objected Heyes. "A hanging that hasn't happened yet gives us time to make a rescue plan."

"It better be a good rescue plan," whispered Beth. "Or I'm gonna get my rifle and go back to my plan!"

"We're not gonna let anything happen to Bridget," promised Heyes.

"Beth, you've hardly eaten anything since we got to Pleasantville. Please finish your sandwich," entreated Travis.

The blonde shook her head.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

"Then get some sleep," urged Kid. "We've got a lot to do tomorrow."

"Where are we gonna sleep?" Travis asked. "There are only two beds."

"Beth gets that one," explained Kid.

The quiet man pointed to the narrow bed. Tucked into the corner of the room, it was partially hidden if anyone opened the door. A big double bed on the center of the opposite wall offered a good view of both the windows and the door. Kid's valise sat atop the counterpane.

"My partner and I get that one," continued Kid with a gesture to the double bed. "You don't mind sleeping on the floor, right?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Another?" teased Heyes.

Kid's long arm reached across the papers sprawled on the table and plucked a thick sandwich from the platter.

"We missed supper," reminded Kid in a low voice before taking a big bite of the meaty repast.

"Keeping Beth safe and helping Bridget is important," reminded Heyes.

"Yeah," Kid nodded in agreement. "But so is supper."

Kid reached for the platter again, this time drawing it closer to his partner.

"You gotta eat too," prodded Kid.

Heyes picked up a sandwich. Holding it in his hand, he looked at it, but his mind was really on their plan. The drawing on the table detailed the key buildings in Pleasantville. The timetable, worked backwards from the planned hanging at noon, scheduled when each step of the plan had to happen, but there was something missing. Heyes was so deep in thought that he almost missed Kid's next question.

"What kinda fella kills his partner and sets up an innocent woman to take the blame?"

Heyes pursed his lips and frowned. The insurance papers he'd taken from Hackleby's safe lay beside their diagrams and notes. The astute man had expected to find insurance policies on the torched homes in Denver, but the life insurance policy on Augustus Hackleby surprised him. Bridget told Kid the attorneys argued, but not what the argument was about. Was the argument Bridget witnessed about the money Augustus wanted to pay Bridget? Or the life insurance policy listing Luke Hackleby as beneficiary to the tune of a million dollars if Augustus died?

"Just because those two worked together doesn't make them partners."

On the other side of the hotel room, Beth lay curled up on the bed, her long golden hair unbound and flowing over her arm, dangling over the side of the bed towards Travis. Heyes shook his head ruefully, thinking how Bridget was risking her life to keep Beth safe.

"Now Bridget and Beth are partners," declared Heyes.

"They sure were partners in mischief when they were little girls," agreed Kid. "But right now, Travis is a partner too."

Maybe thought Heyes. Beth was willing to risk everything to save Bridget, while Travis was determined to back Beth up. But would Bridget have risked her life to save Travis? Heyes ran a hand across his head, sending his hair flying. Would he risk his life to save Kid's wife? Of course he would, Matt was intrinsic to Kid's happiness.

"I think you're right," agreed Heyes.

Kid wolfed down the rest of his sandwich. Heyes traced the map with his long, tapered forefinger. Each step had been timed, each detail checked, but there was still something missing.

"Thaddeus, we can't just break Bridget out. The law will be after her for the rest of her life," sighed Heyes rubbing his tired eyes. "We gotta do something to make the law think they've got the wrong woman."

"Or make the law see the right man," nodded Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	6. Stealing Bridget

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me, nor does Cat Ballou. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Can't Let a Lady Shoot Alone

Chapter 6: Stealing Bridget

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What's the plan?"

Heyes opened one bleary brown eye. Beth peered down at him in concern.

"Unh," groaned Heyes. The other brown eye opened, but all he could see was the crumpled papers he'd been sleeping on. Heyes pushed himself upright in the chair. "Musta fallen asleep."

Slender hands swept across the table. The loose insurance policies went back into the brown satchel Heyes had taken from Hackleby's safe. He pursed his lips, still hadn't figured out how to get this information to the sheriff. The remaining notes and drawings for Stealing Bridget were carefully folded and secreted away inside his vest.

"Where's Thaddeus?"

Heyes turned at Travis' voice. Behind the young man, Beth's narrow bed was neatly made. Travis sat on the floor below, one boot on and the other being tugged upwards. Heyes glanced towards the big double bed, crumpled sheets and a counterpane on the floor were evidence that Kid had slept there, but his partner was missing. Fortunately for his sleep deprived brain, Heyes didn't have to answer Travis' question. The door swung open almost bumping into Travis. Kid entered carrying a tray. Heyes' nostrils flared at the aroma of a freshly brewed pot of coffee.

"First coffee," declared Heyes

Kid set the tray in the middle of the table. Heyes reached for the coffee and began to pour. Kid lifted the cover off the plate to reveal fluffy, yellow scrambled eggs, three strips of bacon and three biscuits.

"Grab something to eat, and make it quick," urged Kid. "You all need to be outta here before that hotel clerk brings up the bath water."

"Bath water?" Travis squinted his eyes looking puzzled.

"Why are you wasting time taking a bath?" demanded Beth. "We've got to rescue Bridget!"

"Right," agreed Heyes. A deft hand reached for a biscuit. Heyes took a bite of biscuit and washed it down with another huge swallow of coffee before continuing. "We're gonna get Bridget outta jail and create enough alibis to make sure none of us go to jail.

"Alibis?" echoed Beth.

"Breaking a murderer outta jail is against the law," grinned Heyes.

"Bridget isn't a murderer!" insisted Beth.

"Of course not," nodded Heyes. "But Gigi Clochefill... she's got a reputation."

Heyes shrugged and let his voice trail off. The schemer gulped down the last of his coffee and set the empty cup beside a bowl of sugar cubes. Travis opened up a biscuit and spooned some eggs and a slice of bacon into the middle, then handed it to Beth, before repeating the process with the last biscuit. Heyes pushed back his chair and rose to stand.

"Come on," beckoned Heyes. "I'll tell you all about the plan on the way to the stable."

Beth and Travis followed Heyes to the door. Kid stared at the scant spoonful of eggs and lone slice of bacon next to biscuit crumbs. As Heyes stepped out into the corridor, he heard his partner's voice.

"This ain't breakfast."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Changing in a stall leaves a little to be desired," grumbled Beth's voice. "There's no mirror in here! I can't tell what I look like."

The willowy blonde stepped from the second stall. Attired in a summery white cotton dress, with her long hair in a thick braid down past her waist, Beth was the picture of innocence. Then she reached for the rifle leaning against the wall.

"You look beautiful Beth," blurted out Travis.

"Put the rifle back down," ordered Heyes. "You don't need that to visit the sheriff."

The dark haired man gave his bay a final stroke on the animal's withers. The freshly groomed horse whickered. Heyes tucked the book he'd retrieved from his saddlebags under one arm, then reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his pocket watch. He smiled. After leaving Thaddeus' room, they had stopped by Beth and Travis' rooms to make sure they looked as if someone had slept there. No one appeared to have tried to break in during the night searching for Beth. That was a relief. The plan hinged on Heyes belief that Hackleby didn't know Beth by sight, just as she didn't know the attorney.

"What makes you think he's gonna let me see Bridget this time?" demanded Beth.

Heyes' smile broadened into a dimpled smirk. The shrewd judge of character had noted the familiar way Sheriff Humphrey Willis and Nolene Baxter spoke to each other. Being on a first name basis with the law said something. Striding across the hard packed dirt, Heyes joined Beth and Travis beside the wagon.

"Because Mrs. Baxter asked him to let you see Gigi." Heyes tucked the pocket watch back into his vest. "But when you see Bridget, you're gonna say you don't know her. Gigi is not your sister."

"What?" Beth's voice ratcheted up in surprise. "Why? Why would I deny my own sister?"

"For her safety," explained Heyes. "After the getaway, we don't want anyone looking for Bridget Jordan. If anyone is looking, it would be better if they were searching for Gigi Clochefill."

At Beth's dubious look, Heyes handed the book he'd carried to Travis.

"You accompany Beth."

Travis hefted the heavy Bible with a puzzled look on his face.

"Careful with that," warned Heyes.

The strategist reached out and opened the cover to reveal the hollowed out inside. A small palm pistol nestled in between the ravaged pages.

"What's this for?" growled Travis. "You don't expect to me to use this, do you? I ain't shootin' a sheriff!"

"Of course not, but you can't walk into the jail with that hogleg on your waist," soothed Heyes. "And I'd rather you weren't totally unarmed."

Travis glowered. His blue eyes narrowed as he set the book down on the wagon seat and began to unbuckle his gun belt.

"You said Beth wasn't going to be in any danger," accused Travis.

"This is a little insurance plan of my partner's," assured Heyes. "Thaddeus has this idea that if you don't plan for something to go wrong, then it will."

"Right," Travis' disgruntled tone said the opposite.

"What's the rest of the plan?" Beth's question forestalled any additional argument from Travis.

"After you see Bridget, the two of you come back here, pack up the wagon, head west towards Denver so everyone in town sees you both leave," continued Heyes. "That's your alibi."

"We're leaving without Bridget?"

"Everybody is going to think you left," clarified Heyes. "Kid said he saw a clump of cottonwoods outside of town when the stage brought him in yesterday. Wait there for Bridget, Thaddeus and me to arrive."

"Does Bridget know the plan?" Beth's voice sounded dubious.

"Bridget knows to expect something," assured cunning man. Heyes didn't mention that Bridget didn't have any of the details. Instead, he diverted Beth with a question of his own. "Beth, do you have anything shiny, silvery, that we can use in my partner's disguise?"

Beth moved to the rear of the wagon to search her carpet bag. Heyes beckoned Travis outside to the corral. The big, sturdy matched team looked well rested. Heyes hoped the team would be ready to put some speed on when the time was right.

"There is one more contingency plan," informed Heyes.

"What else?" Travis sounded suspicious.

"Just in case something does go wrong…," began Heyes. Travis' thunderous look interrupted. Heyes tried to sound confident, "Not that anything is gonna go wrong, but…"

"What is it you want me to do?" growled Travis.

"Your job is to get Beth outta here," directed Heyes. "Keep her safe, take her to California."

"I was gonna do that anyway," retorted Travis. His blue eyes narrowed. "Is this another one of your partner's contingency plans?"

"Of course, Thaddeus is always in charge of security."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes twisted the knob on the door to Thaddeus Jones' room. Kid's fast draw had his colt pointed at Heyes before the door swung all the way open.

"Back already?" Kid slid the colt back into its holster and leaned back into the hot, steaming water.

"Yeah, Beth and Travis are over at the jail," informed Heyes. "Don't get too comfortable now, you're supposed to be injured."

"What a way to ruin a good bath," grumbled Kid.

The sinewy man stretched, then stood up. Water sloshed. Kid reached for the towel and wrapped it around his slim hips before he tossed a slippery, wet bar of soap on the floor. He set a bare foot on the carpet beside it, followed by another. The tall, muscular man stretched out on the floor leaving the soap between his feet.

"How's this look? Suitable for a sprained back?"

"Moan a little when the maid finds you injured," suggested Heyes. "Not too much, but make it convincing so the hotel clerk sends for the doctor."

"And why can't we do this after we _both_ eat?" asked Kid.

"Timing, we don't want to wait all day for someone to find you," reminded Heyes. "I'll be waiting in the dining room, acting all impatient, and then send someone to look for you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"How is my partner doc?" greeted Heyes sounding worried when he walked into Thaddeus' room.

The balding medical man removed his stethoscope from Kid's bare chest. The curly haired man now lay on the bed. Kid opened one blue eye as the physician turned to face Heyes. Kid winked, then moaned softly. Heyes had all he could do not to roll his eyes.

"Your partner took a bad fall," asserted the doctor. He shook his head. "But I can't find anything wrong to account for your friend's pain."

"Maybe Thaddeus sprained his back," prompted Heyes.

The tactician tried not to let his worry show. Kid's alibi depended upon the doc being able to confirm his partner wasn't able to ride.

"No, I don't think so, not enough bruising," objected the man as he put his stethoscope back inside his black bag. "For now though, I'm gonna prescribe bed rest."

"How long?" Heyes tried to sound concerned instead of relieved.

"A day at least," the doctor eyed Heyes quizzically. "You'll need to take care of his personal needs."

"What?" Heyes blinked in surprise.

"I'll leave you a bed pan," replied the doctor. "Your partner really should lay flat on his back and not move, not even for… well, you know."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes stepped out of the hotel onto the wooden boardwalk. He pulled out his pocket watch and smiled, everything was going according to plan. Pleasantville was beginning to get busy. Near the gallows, a pair of musicians performed an impromptu ballad accompanied by a guitar and a banjo. Onlookers appeared enthusiastic. Heyes tuned out the lyrics _"Gorgeous Gigi, gunning for a man, gonna do whatever she can…"_ and glanced towards the jail. The sheriff paced back and forth. Hackleby gestured towards the barred windows, but Humphrey shook his head. Beyond the jail, a door slammed. The boy the desk clerk sent to fetch the doctor was followed by a fat man carrying a black medical bag.

"Time for me to go have a chat with the undertaker," murmured Heyes.

Dexterous fingers snapped the pocket watch shut. Heyes tucked it back into his vest pocket and sauntered away from the hotel.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You see, with my partner being laid up, we're gonna have to stay at least one more night in the hotel," explained Heyes. "Maybe longer."

Heyes' warm brown eyes glanced from the undertaker, to the flatbed wagon containing an open coffin. Heyes sent a thankful prayer upwards that it wasn't one of those fancy glass enclosed hearses. An open wagon would make it easier to retrieve Bridget. He turned back to face the gaunt, hollow-eyed man.

"Rooms are expensive," continued Heyes. "I thought maybe with the hanging and all, you might want to hire a driver."

The whey-faced undertaker scratched his stubbled chin and frowned. A workbench crowded with wood working tools that separated them. A partially completed coffin sat atop the bench. Heyes held his breath. Given a choice, he'd rather have the man hire him, otherwise Heyes would have to tie the undertaker up and hope no one entered the malodorous workshop until after he'd spirited Bridget away.

"Well I'll help you out what I can," agreed the grim man. "You bring the deceased to her resting final place, finish digging the hole and I'll pay you two dollars."

Heyes exhaled and took another shallow breath through his mouth.

"You want me to dig the grave too? For two dollars! That's highway robbery!" protested Heyes as a matter of principal.

"Take it or leave it," shrugged the cadaverous man.

The undertaker resumed planning the side of the coffin. Heyes pretended to dither for a minute, although he'd already made his decision.

"I'll take it," agreed Heyes with the appearance of reluctance. He had no intention of bringing Bridget to the cemetery. The stench assaulted his nose again. His nose crinkled in distaste. "What is that smell?"

The undertaker gestured towards the rear of the room. A draped workbench, surrounded by bales of hay and dripping blocks of ice was the source of the stench.

"Hackleby," answered the man. "I've tried to keep him cool, but he's been dead for three days and it is June."

"The murdered man?" gulped Heyes, feeling nauseous. "Don't you folks bury dead people in this town?"

"Usually," nodded the undertaker as he continued planing the coffin. "But sheriff said to wait until the judge had a chance to see him."

"Judge? What Judge?"

"Whichever one the deputy can get," answered the undertaker. "Sheriff just said to make sure we had a judge come out to Pleasantville real quick and not to bury Hackleby until the judge got a good look."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes reached for the doorknob and startled as the door opened in front of him. He stood face to face with the doctor.

"What are you doing here?" blurted out Heyes.

The slender man anxiously tried to peer over the man's shoulder. Kid lay on the bed, seemingly asleep.

"Checking on my patient," harrumphed the medical man.

"Is he alright?" a genuine note of concern touched his voice.

"He's fine, just sleeping," soothed the doctor. "I wanted to see him before I head out on rounds."

On the bed, one blue eye opened and winked at Heyes. The pounding in his heart slowed to a more regular rhythm.

"You watch out for him now," ordered the doctor.

"Of course," assured Heyes. Worried that this doctor's unannounced visits would interfere with Bridget's rescue, he continued his assurances. "You don't have to come back, I'll be sure to watch over him."

"I always check my patients," informed the doctor. "But I won't be back until late, might not see him again until morning."

The medical man pushed past Heyes and started down the stairs.

"Thank you doc," called Heyes to the man's retreating figure.

Heyes counted to ten slowly before he stepped into the room and closed the door. He turned to see Kid sit up in bed. His partner pointed towards his brown valise.

"Would you please hand me my long johns?"

Heyes opened Kid's luggage, pulled out the undergarment and tossed them towards his partner. He poked through the rest of Kid's clothes, finally retrieving his partner's black pants. Heyes turned and handed the black pants to Kid. Reaching inside his vest, Heyes pulled out a black shirt he'd retrieved from his saddle bags and a white silk sash embroidered with tiny seed pearls and sparkling silver sequins. Kid whistled.

"Where did you get that?"

"It's Beth's, the belt she's embroidering for her wedding dress," answered Heyes. "She said to tell you to be sure and bring it back."

The partner's exchanged a glance. They knew Beth wasn't worried about a sash. The young woman wanted Bridget, Kid and Heyes back. If everything went well, Beth would get the finery back along with the rest of the Jordan gang. Kid set the sash down on the bed. The broad shouldered man tugged Heyes' shirt on, but left the top two buttons undone. Heyes untied the black bandana wrapped around his throat.

"What made you think of Otis Warren last night?" asked Heyes as he passed the cloth to Kid.

Kid shrugged at the mention of the unluckiest outlaw they had ever known. The fast draw began to tie the bandana under his chin, loose enough that Kid could pull it up and cover the lower half of his face.

"I was trying to think of fast draws that rode with their faces covered," explained Kid. "Surprisingly, there ain't that many. Ones that wouldn't get hurt if they were seen in Pleasantville, left only one person."

"Yeah," nodded Heyes. "The law doesn't know Otis is dead, and they're still printing wanted posters on him."

"I like our arrangement better, alive with the law thinkin' us dead."

Kid's blue eyes settled on Heyes. Kid held out his hand expectantly. The dark haired man narrowed his own dark eyes.

"You be careful with this," ordered Heyes sounding serious. He lifted the black hat from his own head and undid the hatband. Not stating his real concern, he rambled on. "Uncle Mac went to a lotta trouble to find a new one exactly like the old one, and I don't want you bringing it back with bloodstains."

Kid took the black hat and began to wrap Beth's shining sash around and around the hat in place of Heyes' hatband. Aside from the black attire, Otis Warren was known for a black hat with a silver hat band.

"Heyes, you worry too much," chided Kid. The younger man set the newly adorned hat atop his dark gold curls. "Blood won't show on black felt."

Heyes stepped back to view the total effect. Dressed from head to toe in solid black, with a neckerchief pulled up over his nose, his partner didn't look like Kid Curry or Thaddeus Jones. But Kid didn't look like Otis either. Kid was taller, but sitting in a saddle no one would really notice, determined Heyes. And Otis had usually been drunk, while Kid was sober. Heyes tapped his right forefinger against his lips. What else?

"Otis always carried two pistols," frowned Heyes.

"Don't worry," soothed Kid. "I'll shoot twice as fast."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes checked his stop watch. He strode over to the window and peered out at the rear of the stable. Beth and Travis had the four horses hitched to the wagon. Travis put his hands around Beth's waist and gave her a boost up to the bench seat.

"Yep, Beth and Travis are right on time."

Brown eyes narrowed as he watched the fake attorney Hackleby stomp out the door of his office. The murderer didn't spare a glance for Beth and Travis, but marched off in the direction of the jail.

"No one's in sight now," stated Heyes. "I'll cover you as far as the stable."

"No," objected Kid. "You have to get the undertaker's buckboard over beneath the gallows."

Heyes inhaled sharply. This was the part he always hated about any job. Splitting up to go their separate ways, not knowing if they would ever see each other again. A dazzling smile spread across Heyes' face, bringing an answering smile to Kid's face. Heyes picked up the brown satchel of insurance policies taken from Hackby's office and tucked it under his arm.

"Right. And don't forget the sugar cubes," reminded Heyes with a gesture towards the breakfast tray. "Because Bub…"

"Beelzebub, you mean," interrupted Kid. "That horse of yours don't like anybody!"

"Bub is a one man horse."

"I sure hope not! I'm gonna need to ride him today!"

"Don't forget the sugar!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes pulled his pocket watch out and glared at the offending timepiece. It was twelve forty-five. The musicians started another round of _The Ballad of Gigi Clochefill._ The lyrics seemed to grow and change every time the two men sang.

"You're late," hissed Heyes under his breath. He glanced towards the jail. "We don't have time for any delays!"

The longer Kid waited in the stable, the more likely someone would see him or he'd run out of sugar cubes for Bub. Bridget coming out of the jail was the signal for his partner's ride to begin. As if the sheriff had heard Heyes' complaint, the door to the jail swung open.

"You forgot someone!" was Heyes first astonished thought.

The sheriff strode towards the gallows all by himself. Footsteps thudded on wooden planks as the lawman climbed up to the platform. The music faded to a stop. Disgruntled muttering from the bloodthirsty crowd rose in its place.

"What are we waiting for?"

"Bring out that murderous wench!" shouted a drunken heckler.

"She's the guest of honor at a necktie party!" catcalled someone else.

At the top of the stairs, the sheriff raised his hands, signaling for quiet.

"Now folks," greeted the sheriff. "There's gonna be a slight delay, the stage is late…"

"We don't need a stage!"

"We can't start the hanging until after the judge…," retorted the sheriff.

A sharp screech interrupted the sheriff. Heyes bolted upright. The whole town could hear Bridget's voice.

"Get your hands off me! I'm not going anywhere with you!"

An indistinguishable squawk, followed by another screech. The jail door slammed open. Hackleby appeared with Bridget over his shoulder. Feet and arms flailed as she continued to voice vehement objections to being manhandled.

"You dad dratted, lily livered, coward!" screamed Bridget. "Let go of me you murderer!"

Hackleby unceremoniously deposited Bridget at the foot of the scaffold. Only then did Heyes realize Bridget's wrists were cuffed. Hackleby looked up at the sheriff standing beside the noose. Bridget scrambled away from Hackleby. The only direction she could go was up the stairs towards the sheriff.

"Here I am, doing your job," growled Hackleby. "You were supposed to escort her to the scaffold…"

"Gigi!"

Kid's shout interrupted Hackleby's tirade. Heyes, the crowd around the scaffold, Hackleby, Bridget and the sheriff all turned to see a rider coming down the road. Brown eyes blinked at the spectacle.

"What have you done to my horse?" whispered Heyes.

The bay gelding was unrecognizable, dappled with streaks of white and black. The masked man, dressed all in black except for the silver hatband, shouted again.

"Gigi, darlin' I've come to rescue you…"

"Ain't nobody taking this little lady anywhere!" shouted Hackleby.

Kid continued to ride the prancing brindle horse closer. Hackleby pulled an ornate pearl handled revolver from the waistband of his trousers.

"She's gotta hang!" shouted Hackleby.

The first shot zinged by Kid's head. The bullet imbedded into the newly painted sign above the law office. Frightened townsfolk screamed and ran, pushing and shoving to get away.

"Hackleby what do you think you're doing?!" shouted the sheriff.

Hackleby spun around. He took aim, but Heyes couldn't tell if he was aiming at Bridget or the sheriff. A second shot sounded. The revolver flew out of Hackleby's hand. The fake attorney howled and clutched his bleeding hand. A third shot and the noose fell on the platform, leaving the severed end of the rope high out of reach. Another shot and the lever controlling the trap door splintered. The trap door itself dropped opened above Heyes. He could see Bridget's wild eyes, but she wasn't looking at him. Hackleby had somehow managed to retrieve his weapon. The man climbed up the stairs pointing the wobbly barrel at Bridget. Crazed muttering sounded from the murderer.

"This is all your fault!"

"Get down," ordered the Sheriff. The lawman made as if to shelter Bridget, but then met eyes with Heyes. "Get her outta here!"

The sheriff shoved Bridget through the trap door. Heyes needed no further encouragement. He slapped the reins. The undertaker's somnolent horses started with a lurch. Bridget climbed up to sit beside Heyes on the buckboard seat.

"Get down," ordered Heyes.

The blonde shuddered and shook her head no.

"I don't want to sit next to a coffin!"

Heyes glanced back over his shoulder. Hackleby stood up on the scaffold, weaving from side to side, trying to hold his gun with both hands. Another shot splintered into the side of the wagon before the lawman pounced on Hackleby. Kid wheeled Bub around, and took off after Heyes and Bridget. Heyes urged the horses onward, the buckboard rolled past the stable. For a minute Heyes thought they might be in the clear, but more shots rang out. A rifle poked out an upstairs window. Vigilante justice was alive and well in Pleasantville. Bridget's bound hands caressed his hip.

"What are you doing with my pistol?" demanded Heyes.

"Just drive!" shouted Bridget.

"Do you really want to go to jail for murder?" shouted Heyes.

"Can't let Thaddeus shoot alone!"

Heyes glanced back over his shoulder. Kid trailed behind them. His partner shot the lock on the stable paddock. Horses scattered through the open gate. The water tower sprung a leak. Bridget raised Heyes' pistol and took careful aim as they rode out of town. Six shots sounded in rapid succession. The sign that read _Welcome to Pleasantville_ transformed into _come to P antville_. As the horses reached the top of the hill, the arriving stage coach passed them headed into town.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"There," grinned Heyes.

The last little twist of the lock pick and the handcuffs around Bridget's hands opened. The bench seat on the buckboard squeaked as the blonde threw her arms around Heyes and hugged him tight.

"Thank you for rescuing me," breathed Bridget.

"It's only fair," replied Heyes. "As I recall, you and Beth saved my partner and me once."

Bridget glanced over to Travis' wagon nestled behind a stand of cottonwoods. Out of sight from the road, Travis checked the bits on the horse's mouths. At the rear of the wagon, Kid, transformed back into the guise of a blue shirted Thaddeus Jones, handed Beth a swath of sparkly white cloth.

"Is Thaddeus really going back to Pleasantville?"

"We both are," nodded Heyes. With a frown at his horse, he added, "As soon as he gets the white wash and coal dust out of Bub's coat."

"Why? It seems like such a risk," frowned Bridget.

"My partner is going to circle around and get my horse back into its stall and himself back into bed at the hotel. His alibi is that he was asleep and missed all the excitement," reminded Heyes. He grinned as he revealed his alibi. "I'm waiting right here until the posse finds me, too frightened to move. My story is the outlaw Otis Warren pointed a gun at me and demanded I release Gigi Clochefill."

Bridget's lips curled up in a smirk, but she dropped her gaze. A light flush appeared on her cheeks. Her unpinned hair fell down below her shoulders.

"Going back to town, it sorta reminds me of going back to Buckton to testify for my mother."

"Not really the same thing at all," shrugged Heyes.

"Did you flip a coin to see who got to be the outlaw Otis Warren and who got to drive the undertaker's wagon?"

"No," smiled Heyes. Unlike what many people, including Lom, thought, there wasn't a clear separation of the planning process. "We planned this together, each of us playing to our strengths."

"What do you mean?"

Heyes shifted on the hard wooden seat. The partner's didn't usually explain themselves to others.

"Today's plan needed a notorious fast draw," reminded Heyes. "Kid's the fastest draw I've ever seen, so that role naturally fell to him."

"And Buckton?"

"Kid's also probably the slowest lock pick west of the Mississippi," chuckled Heyes. "So that meant he had to testify and I had to get him out of jail."

Bridget laughed. Heyes picked up the brown satchel from the floorboard beneath the seat and handed it to her

"When you get to Denver, make sure this goes back to the sheriff in Pleasantville," advised Heyes. "It might not get your parent's money back, but it will help the sheriff figure out Hackleby."

"The sheriff told me this morning he knows that Hackleby is a murderer," informed Bridget. "That's why he was waiting for the morning stage with the judge from Brewster."

"You mean we did all this for nothing?" spluttered Heyes.

"No! It wasn't for nothing, this is the stuff of legends," beamed Bridget. "The two of you are heroes. They'll be writing songs and stories about you both for years to come!"

"Like the Ballad of Otis and Gigi?" Heyes laughed and shook his head. "I sure hope not."

The slender man jumped down from the wagon and held his hands up to help Bridget down. Behind him a twigged snapped as Kid approached. The muscular blond held Heyes' hat. The gaping hole in the crown was just like the one in Heyes' old hat. Heyes searched Kid's face. The tousled curls appeared as they always did, there wasn't a scratch on Kid. His partner smiled.

"It won't take long for the folks in Pleasantville to round up enough horses to get together a posse. These folks ought to get going to Denver," reminded Kid. "They've got a train to catch."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes and Bridget lagged behind Kid. Travis and Beth were already seated upon their wagon. Kid reached for Bub's reins and mounted.

"My baby sister is getting married," murmured Bridget. "She won't need me watching out for her anymore."

"She'll still need you," reassured Heyes. "And when you find some lucky fella…"

"No," Bridget shook her head.

"Then don't. Do something you like."

"The past few months, dancing and travelling, was exciting, but now I can't do that anymore."

"Why not?" prodded Heyes.

"Well…"

"You should probably get a different stage name," advised Heyes. His brown eyes twinkled. "There are lots of female artists working as dancers, actresses, I even know a chanteuse."

"Really?"

"Bridget," smiled Heyes. "You can do anything you want, you're free."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


End file.
